I always enjoy a good mind-screw, so I absolutely loved the premise of Awake. Michael, a police detective, wakes up after a car crash to find that his wife, Hannah, perished in the wreck. The next time he wakes up, it is his son, Rex, who died. And so his realities alternate, and he is unable (or perhaps unwilling) to determine which life is real.
The premise seems full of potential, but it was also full of pitfalls. The dual realities had different characters, but there were also the same characters in different roles. For example, he was seeing a psychologist in each reality, but they were two different characters. His partner in one reality was merely an officer in another. The criminal in one reality may be an informant in another. That's all well an good -- if we saw these characters together or they talked about which reality they were in. But as the episodes went on, it could get very confusing. Which partner goes with which shrink goes with which survivor goes with which crime? Which reality are we in now? Some might say that we're supposed to feel confused because Michael is confused. But after the first couple of trips through the Twilight Zone, he seems to know what's going on pretty well. And regardless, I don't want to have to keep notes when watching a show.
Another problem lies with the concept of empathy. For example, Hannah is understandably distraught over the loss of her son in that reality. But to us the son isn't dead, so she comes across as more annoying than anything else. Some viewers may disagree with that, but here's the thing: Michael feels the same way. He has a very difficult time relating to his wife because to him Rex isn't dead. So he comes across as cold and callous. Maybe his reaction is understandable, but are we really expected to empathize with him in such an outrageous predicament?
And then there was the conspiracy theory in the show, which seemed more tacked on than essential. It smacked of the post-LOST era, whereas fifteen years ago the producers of such a show would have been happy to save such a thing for the final episode.
Awake had tremendous production values, solid writing and great acting. In fact, in almost every way it was one of the best new shows of 2012. But it was overburdened by the weight of its premise. It was a conceit that could possibly work as a novel, where the omniscient narrator could soften actions by showing the thoughts behind them, and could constantly but subtly remind readers of which reality they were witnessing at the moment. On television, that's much more difficult to do. Even the attempt at color-coding each reality wasn't enough.
So Awake is gone, disappointingly but unsurprisingly. But it's always refreshing to see an ambitious and daringly different new show, so I'm glad they made the attempt.
The premise seems full of potential, but it was also full of pitfalls. The dual realities had different characters, but there were also the same characters in different roles. For example, he was seeing a psychologist in each reality, but they were two different characters. His partner in one reality was merely an officer in another. The criminal in one reality may be an informant in another. That's all well an good -- if we saw these characters together or they talked about which reality they were in. But as the episodes went on, it could get very confusing. Which partner goes with which shrink goes with which survivor goes with which crime? Which reality are we in now? Some might say that we're supposed to feel confused because Michael is confused. But after the first couple of trips through the Twilight Zone, he seems to know what's going on pretty well. And regardless, I don't want to have to keep notes when watching a show.
Another problem lies with the concept of empathy. For example, Hannah is understandably distraught over the loss of her son in that reality. But to us the son isn't dead, so she comes across as more annoying than anything else. Some viewers may disagree with that, but here's the thing: Michael feels the same way. He has a very difficult time relating to his wife because to him Rex isn't dead. So he comes across as cold and callous. Maybe his reaction is understandable, but are we really expected to empathize with him in such an outrageous predicament?
And then there was the conspiracy theory in the show, which seemed more tacked on than essential. It smacked of the post-LOST era, whereas fifteen years ago the producers of such a show would have been happy to save such a thing for the final episode.
Awake had tremendous production values, solid writing and great acting. In fact, in almost every way it was one of the best new shows of 2012. But it was overburdened by the weight of its premise. It was a conceit that could possibly work as a novel, where the omniscient narrator could soften actions by showing the thoughts behind them, and could constantly but subtly remind readers of which reality they were witnessing at the moment. On television, that's much more difficult to do. Even the attempt at color-coding each reality wasn't enough.
So Awake is gone, disappointingly but unsurprisingly. But it's always refreshing to see an ambitious and daringly different new show, so I'm glad they made the attempt.